


the way you know my face (you don't know my heart)

by sepiapages



Series: scribbles [2]
Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Anxiety, FTM Trans, Gender Identity, Transgender, idk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-06 05:33:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6740506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sepiapages/pseuds/sepiapages
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What even are my titles?</p>
            </blockquote>





	the way you know my face (you don't know my heart)

**Author's Note:**

> I was trying to write something else and it turned into this whoops

She never knew where to begin when introducing herself. Her muscles would tense, her hands would clench, and she worried someone would sense what was wrong. (Why was she worried? Didn’t she  _ want  _ someone to notice?) New people, new faces, new first impressions… scared her. New chances to disappoint, she felt.

They looked at her with strange faces. Well, they had strange faces because she’d decided to stop wearing her glasses. It made everyone’s face look just… off. Kind of blurry. Just not sharp. It was a little uncomfortable and she didn’t know why she did it, if she was honest.

She told her parents she was wearing her contacts. If they’d just open her dresser, they’d see the box hadn’t even been opened. (She hated wearing contacts. They didn’t know that. They didn’t know her. So they didn’t question it.)

It worked better if people were a little farther away. Then she could hardly distinguish their faces and it was easier to forget.

It made her school day shittier, but her last name always put her up front so it could have been worse. The headaches didn’t help, either, but she dealt with it. At least she had a valid excuse to tell people why she was off.

A valid excuse. Honesty. Truth. It made her head hurt—different from the lack-of-lenses headache.

Tyler was her friend. Tyler was her best friend. But Tyler only vaguely knew what was going on. Hell,  _ she _ didn’t even know what was going on.

He asked about her glasses. He had before, but this time was different. They’d stopped at the edge of the school parking lot after most people had gone home. Her mother wouldn’t be coming until later and Tyler’s ride was still in the school, doing something with a teacher.

Tyler asked what was wrong. As much she’d prayed to hear those words, they also made her so uncomfortable her hand started twitching again and she started stuttering and stumbling over her words. Tyler dropped his backpack and took hers from her as well. He grabbed her arms at the biceps, just below the shoulder, and looked at her hard.

“Talk to me. I need to know what you need.”

She was crying now. Just a little, but just enough. She hated it so much and she kept rubbing her wrists over and over, but she looked back at Tyler and opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it and choked out a few sounds.

“I hate this. I hate me. I’m so wrong. I’m not right. I’m not me. This isn’t  _ true. _ ”

“I don’t… What do you mean?” Tyler was very upset now, but he was speaking carefully. He looked like he cared. Genuinely. Honestly.

She just wanted to be hugged. She leaned forward and Tyler accepted it, hugging her tightly. It felt so good, so she cried some more, and gripped Tyler’s shirt before choking out, “I’m not a girl.”

“You’re… not?” Tyler’s voice sounded far away from behind her shoulder.

They pulled away. “I don't know what I mean. I hate my name. I hate myself. I’m not a girl,  _ please _ , Tyler. Fix it. Do something. Tell me what I need to do to make it better.” She looked away, embarrassed. “God, I sound so terrible and clingy and toxic… I’m so sorry.”

“No!” Tyler reached out and grabbed her hands and squeezed them. “I’m listening. You’re not a girl. Okay… Tell me, who do you want to be?”

She sniffed, feeling like an infinitely young child. “What?”

“Around this school, who do you wish you were?” Tyler said. “I promise, I’m pretty sure this will help. Please. Think.”

She thought. It only took a second. “You.”

Tyler blinked and she could tell he had stopped breathing. “Oh…” he breathed.

She shrugged, too overwhelmed to feel much more about this. “Or Ryan. You know, Ryan with the white hair. Gay Ryan.” She suddenly felt her heart disappear from her chest. “Oh my god…”

Tyler burst into a beaming grin. “I think I know.”

Tears came back and Tyler hugged her again, slowly rocking her. “Wow,” he laughed, “I feel weirdly happy to have been here for this moment for you.”

She nodded into his shirt. “I’m a boy. I’m a guy. I’m a dude.” He started laughing. They both did. “Oh, wow. I hate my name, though. Call me something else. Please.”

Tyler thought for a moment. “Um… Joshua. I like that name. And it’s kinda similar.”

“Joshua… Josh…” His lips stretched into the biggest grin he’d given in far too long. “Yes. Josh. Call me Josh. I like that a lot.”

“All right, Josh. My brofriend. Do you feel any better?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think so. It felt like a key just fell into place.  _ God, _ thank you so much.”

“Any time, Josh. Jish. Jishwa.” Tyler laughed again. He took off his jacket and gave it to Josh. “Here. Come home with me. We’ll get you out of that dress.”

Josh looked down. “You know… I don’t really mind the dress. Can’t boys wear dresses too?”

Tyler blinked. “Of course they can. Okay. Still. Come home with me, okay?” Josh smiled again. Tyler reached over and rubbed his cheek with his thumb. “Keep that up,  _ Joshua _ . You’re still beautiful.”


End file.
